


The Knights of Monsters

by MoscaTheAtheist



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F, F/M, Injury, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Magical setting, Multi, Slow Burn, Werewolves, Witches, but nothing super graphic cause I'm not about that, but there will be descriptions of wounds in some chapters, i'll make sure to mark those, nymph, there is also a lot of attempted murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoscaTheAtheist/pseuds/MoscaTheAtheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As her fingers traced over the last number Cosette sent a final prayer towards her gods and then a brief plead to the dead artist she had only vaguely known, but whose memory Enjolras put all his faith in and had committed heresy for.  Plotting to kill the second in line to the throne required all the aid the heavens could bring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude to Murder

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the characterizations are going to be more based on the general fanon interpretations of the characters and the musical. I have read Les Mis and I know that the characterizations are pretty far off from the book. 
> 
> Also I do not have a beta, so if you notice something you think should be fixed (other than their characterizations relative to the brick), let me know and I'll look into it. I do go through several drafts of my writing, but there's only so much that you can catch on your own, you know? I welcome any kind of constructive criticism and greatly appreciate anyone pointing out potentially problematic aspects of my writing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

            Cosette lingered just inside the threshold, taking in the scene before her.  Sunlight pooled through stained glass windows onto the church's floor, centuries-smoothed sandstone glowing warmly with the light.   The few servants that frequented the small church knelt in front of worn pews, heads bowed as small specs of dust illuminated by the sun flitted around their bowed heads.  Their murmured prayers and the faint scent of incense wafting from the altar washed over her.  Cosette let out a small sigh and leaned back against the wall. She loved the space, a humble haven surrounded by the palace's otherwise gaudy display of wealth whose existence was owed to the fact no one much cared to look at the small corner it inhabited.  It was one of the only respites she had from her courtly duties and its intrigue that she dealt with daily.   After her wedding to the crown prince six years ago and her duties and the expectations for her increased, she had vowed that she'd never drag any of it into this hallowed space.  

            But today was an exception.  She stood up a little straighter and looked to the only corner of the room that was out of the sun's reach and saw the golden curls of the knight she was looking for.  He sat where he always did, staring at the same small engraved stone he had come every day to visit for the past six years.  Cosette took a deep breath, gathered her skirts and walked down the aisle towards the altar.  A few servants looked up as she entered, but most kept their eyes closed and heads bent.  The usual patrons were another reason this place had become a refuge for her.  They were either too old and had seen too many princesses for her presence to instill any awe or they still saw her as a frightened little girl, hiding behind her father's robe as he lit a candle for her mother.  She smile and nodded at the few who met her eyes as she quickly made her way to the front pew, but kept note of their faces.  They were different than the spies that Montparnasse usually sent out to follow her. 

            She walked past the altar and sat down next to Enjolras in the darkened corner of the church.  His head was bowed, lips moving in what appeared to be a silent benediction.  But Cosette had known Sir Enjolras for almost six years now, plenty of time for her to discover his somewhat frightening views on the organized religion and lack of respect for higher powers.  He would not stop his bastardized version of the prayer for the dead until he deemed that the artist had fully heard him.  Cosette bit her lip, tempted to interrupt him as time was growing short, but she couldn't bring herself to ruin the one thing he felt he had to do for the dead.  She looked away  to give him some privacy and focused on her own short but passionate prayer, one that she hoped the gods were listening to.  

            Her eyes were still closed when she heard him murmur, "My Lady Cosette."         

            She gave a small nod and replied just as softly, "Sir Enjolras."  She opened her eyes and turned to her friend.  She shifted a little uncomfortably, becoming acutely aware of the three pairs of eyes that began watching them in what their owners must have thought was a discreet manner.  Montparnasse must be getting truly desperate to find out their plans if he was using such sloppy spies.

             Enjolras didn't turn towards her and he didn't react to the shuffling of spies behind them as they inched towards the pair.  Though his lips had stopped moving, he still sat slumped in the pew, one arm propped up on the armrest, staring intently at the stone in the wall.  If this had been a normal day, she'd allow him his thoughts, waiting for him to address her and beginning their conversation.  When Enjolras seemed intent on staying their usual course, Cosette's foot tapped quickly against the floor.  When Enjolras didn't respond she cleared her throat quietly.  "Sir Enjolras, My Lord Marius requests your presence."  Cosette waited for his scripted reply and received a noncommittal grunt instead.  She bit her lip and her toes hit the floor just a little faster.  She knew why he was acting like this, why he was distant even when an event he had been key in planning was almost upon them, but she had no time for his general May antics.  She understood, of course she did, but she needed him to focus, to remember they all needed him.  She cleared her throat, much more loudly, receiving a few glares from the actual patrons of the chapel. 

            A small smile spread on Enjolras' face before turning her way and giving the scripted response, "And why would our Lord Marius be asking for me? I've been retired to the City Watch for six years, surely he has enough knights to take care of him."

            Cosette fidgeted a little as she caught one of Montparnasse's spies leaning forward to hear them better.  She was not an actor, it's part of what made court so tiring for her, but she knew what was at stake.  Enjolras needed an actual reason to be in the Crown Prince's presence to raise as little suspicion as possible and groveling for his old job back was certainly out of the question.  She swallowed back her distaste for pretense and raised her voice for them to hear her a little better, "He would like to request your help on the protection detail in a hunting party that he's arranging that will leave in two weeks."

            Enjolras cocked his head, the pony tail holding back his long curls falling to one side, "You may report to our Lord Marius that I no longer wish to perform in that capacity, ask the new captain of the Royal Guard, it's her duty."  He paused and glanced back at the stone in the wall.  "Besides, I have the City Watch to run and a candle to light, I can't go running off every time our prince calls." 

            Cosette quickly grasped his hand, lifting it up higher so that those behind them could see.  She cringed, there was no way anyone could be buying this she thought as she began to shake.  Enjolras rubbed his thumb across her hand in slow moving circles. _Stay true to the script_ , she reminded herself.  "But, Sir Enjolras," she said, hoping that her quick breathing came out more desperate than scared, "surely we can find some other worthy knight to fill your place while you accompany him for a few days!  They Lady Musichetta would gladly change places with you for the week, it would give her time to be closer to her Bossuet, who has been recently been bed-ridden."

            Cosette felt him start more than she saw it, she had thought he knew that.  "Nothing serious I assure you, just one of his little accidents, but she and Sir Joly would appreciate the time to be closer to him and.. I would appreciate you being near my Lord Marius.  He needs a team of competent guards around him at all times, but going out into the forest to hunt would require the best, you know how he is.."  She lowered her voice to what she hoped was something near seductive, "Please Enjolras, for me?"  "

            Enjolras smiled and drew her hand to her lips and kissed it, making sure to linger long enough for the spies to see.  She grimaced slightly as he deliberately left a line of drool on her hand, "For you, my Lady."  The two looked directly into each other's eyes for a few minutes while the spies hastily retreated out of the church, probably hoping to be the first to report back to their master about the return of Captain Enjolras and of another piece of evidence for the 'affair' between him and the future queen.          

           As the last one left, the pair broke eye contact and Cosette made a show of wiping her hand on the green silk bodice of her dress.  She bit her lip, "Do you think that that will work?" 

             Enjolras shrugged, "They did not seem like the most experienced spies, even with your atrocious acting, they'll report it as truth."

            She started at that, panicked that he believed that, until she saw the smile spread across his face.  She smiled back and grasped at her heart, "Enjolras, you dare injure my acting skills?  I spend all day in court and have managed to only acquire two sworn enemies, I can pretend just fine.  And what about your acting? That drool wasn't even vaguely romantic at all."

            Enjolras sat up straight and flipped his hair off his shoulder, "My acting was perfect, and even if it weren't, what of it?  I've been told that the mere sound of my voice could move men to treason."  Cosette giggled at the memory and sat a little less stiffly, held herself a little more loosely.   

            "Don't make fun of Lady Aimée, she just has a difficult time... expressing her fondness sometimes."

            "That fondness almost had me arrested, mind you." Cosette let out another giggle.  The pair fell into talking if Lady Aimée was truly as socially clueless as she appeared or if it was just a well-calculated act.  Cosette felt the calm that normally filled her in this space enter her as they talked as they had for the past six years in the church.  She had so few friends that she treasured the few moments she could steal with them far and away from court.  And Enjolras never looked happier than he did when he was with her in those moments.  Before she had really known him, back when he was an ambitious knight she sometimes spotted arguing and fighting, he had always been smiling, always had been with a determined look on his face as he walked around the castle's grounds.  People said that ever since that _artist_ had died, he had lost some of the life and his beauty.

            But Cosette thought differently.  Like her former governess had said, his voice really could move people to treason given the right words.  Combine it with it his simply divine physique, golden curls, light blue eyes and dark olive skin, and he was a force of beauty to be reckoned with, it would take more than grief to ruin that.  Besides, though he was slightly quieter now, there was a kindness in him that hadn't been there before and a certain sense of gravitas that came with his more somber attitude.  She had often thought that had life turned out differently, if his inclinations were a different and if her heart hadn't found it's other half years before she met him, if there would have been anything between them. But those thoughts were few and far between, especially when she was actually with him and laughing with him. 

            The two sat there chatting for a little while longer before Enjolras stood up and gave a small informal bow.  "Well, My Lady, I must pay my respects to our Lord Marius," he pulled an exaggerated disgusted face that he only seemed to do in her presence.  She slapped him lightly on the arm.  "Oh, be nice, he tries."  Enjolras rolled his eyes and made a move to go.

            Cosette tightened her hand around his arm. "Enjolras, I will light a candle in your place, he won't be forgotten."

            Enjolras' smile turned into the sad smile that he normally wore when he was anywhere but here.  He made a move to pull away again, but she held firm.  "You will be gone on May sixteenth," he stiffened slightly and Cosette continued, "I know what that day is, I know what it does to you, but please don't lose yourself, Marius needs you... We all need you to be here in the present."  She gestured to the stone Enjolras had been staring at for most the hour, "He would want you to be in the present as well."

            The smile slid off of his face completely, his mouth twisted and his browed furrowed.  "I'm sure that he wanted to be in the present as well, but I sure took care of that didn't I?"

            "Enjolras--"

            He brought her hand to his lips, an affectionate gesture in place of his earlier mockery.  He let her take her hand back and said, "You light a candle for me...for him, the days that I am gone, and I promise you that Prince Marius will come home to you." She made a move to talk and but he shook his head, "I'll postpone my annual drunken stupor for after this trip, I'm sure we'll all have earned a celebration by then anyways."  With that, he left her sitting in the chapel. 

            Cosette sat in the relative silence, the calm of the space battling with the mounting anxiety she felt.  With Enjolras now going to Marius' protection detail, their plan was growing closer to being executed, the thought of those she loved having to go through with it made her slightly ill.  A few minutes after Enjolras left, she managed to stand, dread and worry threatening to pull her back down.  She wandered over to the wall and ran her fingers over the words inscribed onto the stone that Enjolras came to visit:

The Artist Grantaire

Died May 16

Aged 17

            As her fingers traced over the last number Cosette sent a final prayer to her gods and then a brief plead to the dead artist she had only vaguely known, but whose memory Enjolras put his faith in and had committed heresy for.  Plotting to kill the second in line to the throne required all the aid the heavens could bring. 

 

 


	2. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally supposed to be like a whole 1,000 words longer (and come like one week sooner), but school kind of shot that idea in the ass. But on the plus side, this means that I will be able to work through the chapter that comes after this relatively quickly (I have it blocked out and everything, just didn't have the time to polish it). And then all the couple-stuff is gonna come in (it's not that much of a spoiler is it? It's in my tags that there will be couple-stuff). 
> 
> As always, like and comment and critique please. Thanks and enjoy!

Enjolras wandered around the Royal Guard's barracks, fidgeting with the newly embroidered badge on his old uniform while inspecting the room. It was an eerie feeling, walking around in his old uniform in a room that had changed so little. Almost like he had stepped onto the set of a play; it didn't feel quite real. There was still a mountain of muddy boots piled against the wall and clothes that needed mending thrown haphazardly at the base of the stairs. The same beds were still left messy in violation of protocol while the weapons and gear were stacked meticulously against the wall. He hadn't known what to expect, but a part of him felt that with everything that had happened outside of these walls that something inside of them should have shifted. 

The barracks were empty, all guards either following his orders to prepare for the upcoming hunting trip or had rushed into the dining hall for lunch, enjoying the rare respite in their duties. All he could hear was the creak of floorboards under his feet and his breath. The stillness and quiet unsettled him even more. It felt wrong to be here, wearing these clothes, and to not be barking orders at lazing guards or shooing away palace apprentices sneaking in and out to see their lovers. He stilled as he neared his old bed, recognizable by the smudge of red paint on the headboard. Grantaire had flopped down on his bed seven years before, grasping at his heart in mock agony when Enjolras had called him useless for the fifteenth time that day. He ran a finger over the smudge and thought of the painter's apprentice. Despite his hardest attempts to remove Grantaire from his mind, the memory of the man seemed to invade his thoughts at every turn. 

Enjolras slowly removed his hand and breathed deeply. He needed to be present for the week and a half. Afterwards, he reminded himself, he could lose himself as much as he'd like. He began to wander around the room again, ignoring the searing pain that flared in his chest every time he thought of Grantaire. It had been getting easier to ignore that ache that had settled in his chest when Grantaire died, but as May loomed nearer, he began to feel like it was impossible. He began to pick furiously at the badge, his breathing speeding with the pace. Gods, everything reminded him of that time, of him, how could he--? A hand came down to cover his badge and hand and he jumped. He relaxed once the owner of that voice began to speak, "You know, Lady Cosette will murder you if she discovers that you pulled that off, she spent a good hour stitching it back on that ratty uniform of yours." Enjolras turned and met the smiling face of his friend. 

"Courfeyrac," his melancholy ebbed for a moment as his friend pulled him into a fierce hug. "Captain," Courfeyrac responded. They stayed like that for a moment before Corufeyrac pulled back and held him at arm's length and absolutely beamed at Enjolras when he finally saw him back into his attire. He had known that Enjolras was coming, they had discussed it days before, but to see it was another matter entirely. 

"I never thought that the day would come that I could call you captain again." Enjolras shook his head and untangled himself from Courfeyrac. 

"It's only for this next week and a half while we hunt with the Prince, I wouldn't get used to it."

Courfeyrac shook his head, "Don't you try to take this away from me, it's too great to have you back. It's almost like the good old days." Courfeyrac had meant it as a joke, Enjolras knew, but it brought back all the memories of Grantaire that he had been able to forget for a moment. Enjolras' smiled tightened, "Almost."

Courfeyrac bit his lip as he caught his mistake as soon as it had left his lips. He had never been as good as the rest of them had been with Enjolras after Grantaire had died and he didn't know if he would make Enjolras feel worse if he talked to him about it. Going off of previous results, he was pretty sure he would. Courfeyrac decided to ignore it, reasoning that his closest friend would need to focus right now anyways. He decided to babble, hoping that Enjolras would get lost in his words rather than his own thoughts. "It's been so long since I've seen my proper captain, you know? It just makes this place feel so much more like home."

Enjolras scoffed, "I'm sure Captain Musichetta would take issue with calling me the proper captain."

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, "Oh, you know what I mean." His hands began to move wildly, "I mean, how would you feel if everyone left you all alone here in the Prince's Guard? You'd be pretty excited too to see those you love come back!"

That made Enjolras smiled again, "You have Captain Musichetta and Sir Bousett and Joly and..." Courfeyrac waved a hand to cut him off. "Besides, didn't I see you two days ago?" Courfeyrac threw his hands up in the air.

"Oh, they're all alright, but... well, it's just not the same!" Enjolras stayed silent after that and sat down on the nearest bed, watching his friend gesture wildly as he talked about how hard it had been, all alone-ish here in the Prince's Guard. It really hadn't been that long since the pair had seen each other, or any of their group for that matter. Enjolras, Combeferre, Feuilly, and Bahorel had all left for different branches of the guards at the same time, but the group still met regularly at the Musain. They had done so weekly since the day Enjolras had officially moved to the City Watch. They'd catch up, compare the different work units, talk about injustices they'd seen that day, and find ways to pass those messages along to Prince Marius and pressure him into addressing them. But mostly the group met to simply talk and enjoy the others' company. 

Still, there was something different about being back with his friend in these clothes, in that place. For one, it made him realize just how much Courfeyrac really had changed. The man had always looked younger than the rest of them, baby-faced and short as he was. Enjolras had often marveled at how well Courfeyrac had born the years, both mentally and physically. But being back in the Guard made him notice the subtle, yet somehow drastic, changes. Courfeyrac still looked young, far younger than any of them looked now, but the years were slowly etching themselves onto his dark skin and into his bearing. Laugh lines and worry lines alike were slowly being grooved into his face. His shoulders seemed to droop a little lower and his eyes didn't shine quite as bright as they had six years ago. 

There was a soft creak from the stairs that caught Enjolras out of his reverie. Behind Courfeyrac, Combeferre slowly made his ways down the stairs into the barracks towards them. Enjolras met his eyes and smiled, Courfeyrac still rambling on about the hardships his friends put him through. Enjolras stood up and tapped Courfeyrac on the shoulder. He turned around and squeaked a little as Combeferre reached them. He pulled him into a hug that rivaled the one he gave Enjolras earlier. Enjolras lingered off to the side. Since noticing the changes in Courfeyrac, he wanted to see if he could see anything new in Combeferre. 

And he most certainly did. If the years had been kind to Courfeyrac, it was because they were taking all their fury out on Combeferre. He looked ten years older than his twenty-five. He was much, much paler now, too long indoors with the sick and dying in the Medic Unit. He held himself differently now, a little more detached. But underneath all that Enjolras still found the same quiet, patient man he had always been. Enjolras moved forward and put his hand on his friend's arm. "Lady Cosette must be truly skilled in persuasion if she could get the great Doctor Combeferre to leave his patients for even one day." 

Combeferre gently pushed Courfeyrac away and clasped his friend's hand in his. "She wasn't that persuasive, I volunteered once I heard you were really going. The king couldn't have been more pleased that I would be supervising the medical needs of his sons and heirs while they hunted." 

Courfeyrac nudged him, "You just couldn't leave me and our fearless leader alone, could you?"

Combeferre shook his head. "Of course I couldn't. You think nothing through and Enjolras is always ready to die for the cause, even if it's something not worth the time. If I didn't come you would be impaled on the tusk of a boar and Enjolras here would be campaigning for its protection even as it ran him down." He smiled and Courfeyrac laughed, but Enjolras' brow furrowed. 

"Do not come if you're only worried for us. There's no need for you to leave your patients and risk-" 

Combeferre rolled his eyes. "Enjolras, calm down, I was joking. I wanted to come so I am here. It is done." They were silent for a moment before Combeferre continued on. "Besides, you are both always telling me that I should get out more." 

This time Enjolras did laugh. Courfeyrac bumped his hip against his friends'. "Still, no matter the circumstances, it's good to have you two home again... Even if it for just a week or so." 

Enjolras bit his lip, not wanting to let on how much he agreed. Try as he might, he really did miss his job, the people, and the responsibilities. But the reminders were more than he could handle. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a chuckle behind them.

"The trio is home, it's so sentimental," Enjolras spun around and faced the lithe form of Prince Montparnasse looming above them in the doorway. Since Cosette had approached him for this weeks ago, he had thought of what he would say when he saw the prince again after five years of studiously avoiding him. He had wanted it to be something cutting and accusatory. But now that the prince stood in front of him, the most vocal and tactile of all of the reminders of Grantaire's death, all he could do was stand and stare. 

Montparnasse descended the stairs quietly and gracefully, all the while keeping his eyes on Enjolras. "I can think of a few artists who'd have loved this kind of scene, wouldn't you agree, my little Apollo?" he asked as he his feet touched the floor. Enjolras tensed up even more at the use of the nickname. He felt like he was about to vomit.

The prince moved towards them quickly and before any of them could stop him, he was running a hand through Enjolras' curls. "Then again, maybe you wouldn't know. You were never really one for recognizing sentimentality, were you?"

It was Combeferre who shoved him away. "Only members of the Prince's Guard are allowed in here, regardless of status," Courfeyrac said. The pair moved between Enjolras and Montparnasse and placed their hands on the hilt of their swords. 

"What, I can't come to see my own men?" Montparansse pouted.

Enjolras felt his wits come back to him. He straightened his back and met Montparnasse's eyes for the first time in half a decade. "These are not your men," he said coldly. His hand found its way to the hilt of his sword as well. 

Montparnasse smirked and clasped his hands behind his back. "Oh, you used to be so much more fun, my little Apollo. Whatever am I to do with this new aggressive you?" Enjolras faltered and his hand slipped off his sword. Montparnasse slowly circled the trio, all the while letting his eyes rake over Enjolras' body. "Although, I'm sure I can think of some other way that this new feisty you could be rather exciting as well."

Courfeyrac growled at that and pulled his sword out of its sheath, moving around Enjolras to counter Montparnasse's movements. The man's seemingly pernament smirk never wavered. "You do know that it is punishable by death to raise a weapon on a member of the royal family?" Combeferre put his hand on Courfeyrac's arm. Courfeyrac looked back at Enjolras, who shook his head. Only then did he reluctantly lower his sword. 

Montparnasse finished circling them and stood at the foot of the stairs again. "Besides, we'll have plenty of killing on our little hunting party. Plenty to get rid of all that pent up bloodlust, won't we?"

Courfeyrac visibly started and Combeferre looked a little stunned by Montparnasse, but Enjolras gained a strange sense of calm. He met Montparnasse's gaze unflinchingly. There was something so final in knowing that the prince knew of their plans that it had strangely and momentarily calmed him. Montparnasse seemed to find something abotu his gaze amusing. "Yes, there will be blood and death galore, but who is going to win the prize in the end, my little Apollo?"

"We shall see." Enjolras said quietly as the man calmly made his way back out of the barracks. 

As soon as Montparnasse left and the door had shut behind him, Courfeyrac let out a hiss, "He knows."

Combeferre sat on the nearest bed and put his head in his hands, "Then all is lost." 

Enjolras looked at his despairing friends. ""No, no it's not. We always knew that he might find out, it's nothing new if he tries to turn this against us, it would hardly be the first assassination attempt of his that we've ruined. Nothing has changed, he knows our intent, not our plan." Despite his certainty, the fact that Montparnasse knew of their plans at all was a real problem. He'd be alert and he'd be watching. Enjolras rubbed the back of his neck. 

The knowledge that there was a very real possibility that they might fail, that Marius would be the one to die and the kingdom would fall into the hands of Montparnasse, who would undo all of the progress they had made for the people, began to weigh heavily on him. "The whole kingdom's fate depends on if we can keep the power of the land in the hands of a well-meaning fool and his very clever wife."

He stood there on his own with his eyes closed when he felt Combeferre's hand on his shoulder. "We're with you in this, Montparnasse will not gain control." 

Courfeyrac put his hand on his other shoulder, the two grounding him and supporting him, like they had always done. "It's true... Though I think that Cosette would take issue of calling our Lord Marius a fool." Enjolras opened his eyes and grinned a little at that.

He squared his shoulders, his friends' hands falling to their sides. "Come on, the week will be short enough as it is, we're going hunting."


	3. A Hunting We Will Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… this was finished so much later than I wanted to have finished. In my defense, it was SLC Comic Con, my birthday, and the hardest weeks I’ve ever had in college ever. Also this chapter gave me some problems, so pardon if it’s a bit rough (actually don't pardon, critique what you think is clunky and doesn't work and comment. I'll probably fix it around fall break). But I finally did it! And I promise next week is when all of the couple-ish stuff is going to start. :)  
> Also there is violence in this chapter at the end

Combeferre hated the outdoors, always had. When they had been squires, Courfeyrac would prod and bribe him into sneaking out into the woods with him and Enjolras. He’d sigh and eventually agree and they’d tiptoe off into the woods to watch the fairies’ lights. Combeferre never said no, even though he hated the mud and the insects and the noises that echoed in the night. They’d make their way through the dark woods and eventually find the hazy glow of the fairies as they danced lazily in the air. Courfeyrac and Enjolras would become entranced and it was always Combeferre who dragged them back to the safety of the castle walls. Enjolras and Courfeyrac were too easily caught up in the lights; they’d be whisked away if he didn't come with them. That’s why he braved all those nights and trespassed through the mud with them. He needed to be behind them, watching them, keeping them safe. 

It’s the same reason that he had volunteered for the hunting trip, trailing the company and keeping his eyes trained on his friends. Combeferre had been keeping a steady eye on the company over the past three days. The trip had worn on a day longer than they had anticipated and tensions were starting to heighten. Montparnasse and his guards were getting more rowdy while Marius’ camp grew tenser by the minute. Everyone except for Courfeyrac, who was currently chatting with Marius and some guards he only vaguely knew, had either drawn into themselves or were glancing tensely around the never changing landscape of dense forest. Courfeyrac was trying to keep things more relaxed, occasionally drawing uneasy laughter out of the party, but most the company remained tense.

Enjolras rode on the other side of the party, perfect riding posture with eyes alert despite three days of relative uneventful happenings. If it hadn't been for the way that Enjolras would tense when Montparnasse mentioned his name or the way he never quite looked over at the man, Combeferre would think that he was just being his naturally tense self. But the tension and the weight of their mission was slowly getting to him. Combeferre sighed. He wasn't entirely sure, having not set foot outside the castle walls since his official transfer to the Medics, but he was fairly certain that hunting parties were supposed to involve a lot less tension and a lot more fun.

Most of the problem was coming from Montparnasse’s group. They had started out fairly orderly, making Combeferre wonder if the stories about them had actually been true. But as the days wore on, he saw that they were every bit as lewd and rude as the rumors held them to be. The guards were laughing now at some comment that Montparnasse had said. He pointed over to Marius and the guards guffawed again. A blush climbed slowly up Marius’ cheek. Combeferre knew it had been something about his manhood, though he was a little too far back to hear clearly. Montparnasse let his eyes fall over Enjolras as he continued to insult his older brother. Combeferre wondered how long the man would remained obsessed with his friend. Or if not obsessed, when he would be content with his attempts to ruin him. 

Combeferre tore his eyes from his friends to look at his surroundings. They needed a place to perfectly stage Montparnasse’s accident and they needed to make sure that they weren't anywhere that the prince could plan an ambush of them. If they were in the city, Combeferre would have been able to plan this perfectly, but they were out in nature and he had no idea where they actually were. He knew they were somewhere east of the city walls because that’s where the best pig game was (so he was told). It felt leagues away. He couldn't tell if that’s because they actually were far away or if the trees just blocked the castle from sight. He shook his head and tried to focus on the task at hand. 

But it was hard to stay present when nothing seemed to change in the landscape around them. The monotonous rows and rows of trees and the trotting of his horse would have been enough to lull him to sleep if it hadn’t been for an especially loud comment from one of Montparnasse’s men. “I’d say I wouldn't mind sticking my sword into something today,” the man yelled at one of Marius guards while grabbing his crotch. The guard, whom Combeferre thought was named Belle, blushed and put her head down, tears forming in her eyes. 

Marius frowned before turning to his brother. “Control your men,” he said in a quiet but steady voice. Enjolras looked almost proud of him. Montparnasse’s man scoffed. 

Enjolras glared. He spurred his horse to move a little faster so that he moved out from behind Marius into full sight of the other party, “You will listen to the future king.” His voice was hard and the man seemed to wilt under his gaze. 

“He’s not king yet,” Montparnasse said airily. Enjolras flinched slightly but held the prince’s gaze. Montparnasse was smiling, and he was truly terrifying when he smiled this way, “But I do believe you’re right, Victor. Sticking something would be a pleasant change. I always quite liked the spark that comes from a successful conquest.”

Enjolras blushed and his horse slowed so that Marius blocked him from sight. The other guards around bit their lips slightly. Enjolras was well known as a leader, the guards already had taken a liking to him and listened when he commanded. It was troubling to see him back down so easily. Enjolras’ shoulders sagged just a little bit and Combeferre found himself wishing that he had been allowed to just poison the leech years ago.

But they had a plan. Cosette had posed the hunting idea in the first place and Enjolras had spent more than a year slowly implementing it. Get Prince Montparnasse hunting, get his horse to throw him, make sure he did not get up. Simple. No one could be blamed for what would be classified as an accident, not when over twenty other venerable guards were on duty and while the ever honorable Enjolras was overseeing the hunt itself. It was a well-known fact the prince was a poor rider. The king would mourn, Marius would be able to fire a few of these unsavory guards, and the kingdom and the little progress they had made would be safe. And most importantly, though the man himself would probably disagree, Enjolras would finally be free and able to move on. 

He had faith in the plan, in Enjolras. The guards for Marius were good people, who wouldn't question Enjolras but were loyal to the crown. They’d help in whatever way Enjolras told him. But gods, Montparnasse had looked so confident this whole trip, and he knew what they were doing. The prince had caught him staring a few times and had sent a chilling smile down his spine. How were they supposed to win when he looked like he was ten steps ahead of them? 

His thoughts whirled around in his head for a few more minutes, over thinking the situation as they passed truly uninspiring stretches of wood. He faintly heard Courfeyrac and a few of the other guards Combeferre didn't know (if he had known they’d be out for so long, he might have bothered learning their names) and Enjolras had fallen into debating something with Marius in a low voice. If there wasn't a palpable tension in the air, Combeferre would laugh at the look Enjolras had while explaining things to Marius, like a parent explaining the alphabet to a child who refused to grasp the concept. He remained watching his friends and Montparnasse’s camp from the background, ready to swoop in if he was needed, ready to pull his friends away from the fairy lights. 

“The Prince desires to rest,” bellowed Montparnasse’s guard Vincent. Combeferre highly doubted that, seeing as they hadn't done anything more than vaguely saunter in a direction as a company that day. There had been no game that day, or the day before. Marius’ group made a move to stop their horses and Combeferre followed suit. 

“No, not here, brother. There’s a little clearing up ahead, the one we used to go to as children when father took us with him on hunts. Remember, Marius?”

Marius had blanched and nodded slowly. Everyone remembered the clearing. Marius had almost drowned as a child, Combeferre could remember the panic the day it had happened. He had been seven, just entered the castle as a squire, but he remembered the tears of servants and courtiers. He remembers the five-year old Montparnasse’s tears too, though those had been after they’d learned that Marius would survived. 

The company rode the short way in silence. Montparnasse’s group seemingly had caught on to the tension of Marius’. Marius’ guards were not involved in the plot, but they knew that they had to be cautious around the prince’s brother, Enjolras had told them that much. They remained silent as they broke into the clearing. The sun that had been shining spottily through the trees now poured down on them in an almost obscene assault of light. Combeferre slowly dismounted his horse as the company stopped and began to set up separate camps. He took his time by his horse, petting her neck and trying to calm his mind. This was the best place Montparnasse could have led them for an ambush. 

“You know, I know we’ve got a plan, but it’s so hard to not shoot him in the back.” He jumped and spun around. Courfeyrac had walked over to stand by him and folded his arms across his chest while glaring at Montparnasse. The man stood in the center of his camp, making some gesture Combeferre was sure was obscene. Combeferre hushed his friend but couldn’t help agree. Even if the man wasn’t out to destroy the progress they had created for the kingdom, he was still a general awful presence. It often took people a while to realize it because the prince had all of his mother’s beauty and she had been a lovely and good woman. It was like she had passed all her goodness onto Marius, leaving nothing but her high cheekbones, light green eyes, and thick black hair and general aura of beauty for her second son. 

“Do you think that the king would be too disappointed if I actually killed him? Like, I know he’d be sad, but do you think he’d be heartbroken?”

“Well, he does to seem an unusual attachment to the boy… but… I think I should be the one to do it. Much easier to disguise a poisoning than an arrow through the heart.”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked at each other and gave an uneasy laugh, the tension from before lessening somewhat. “I think we may have to get in line behind Enj first though? I think he has the rights to this kill.” Courfeyrac continued trying to keep in light. Combeferre nodded, smiling at the thought of his friend stabbing the prince through the heart. They looked over at Enjolras and froze. Montparnasse had made his way over to where Enjolras had been securing the horses, hands gently placed on the guard’s hips. A look of absolute terror washed over Enjolras’ face as the prince whispered something in his ear. He tried to pull away but Montparnasse tightened his grip. Combeferre thought he could read the word “mine” fall from Montparnasse’s lips. 

Courfeyrac was tearing his way over to them to separate the two. Combeferre started to follow to keep his friend from doing something rash like killing the prince in an absurdly obvious way. He stopped as Montparnasse pulled away and Enjolras bolted over to Marius. 

The other prince smiled and hailed him. The guard that had almost cried, Bella, was standing with him. “Captain Enjolras, we were just discussing what you were telling me on the ride over, and I think I get what you meant now,” the prince started. 

In a move that scared Combeferre more than anything else that had happened that day, Enjolras waved Marius’ words away and said, “We can talk about it later, my lord, we have to get you somewhere safe.” 

Marius looked confused for a moment before the words registered. He and Bella looked over at his brother’s camp, noticing that Montparnasse was nowhere to be seen. He nodded, “Where are we going?” 

Enjolras glanced at Lady Belle “My Lady, escort the prince to the palace, now.” The girl looked as frightened as Combeferre felt. “But, sir…” 

“Now,” the captain growled. Belle nodded and led Marius away to the horses. She helped him up before mounting her own horse. Enjolras addressed her, “Lead our Lord Marius back to the castle, stop for nothing.” He let a bitter smile, “Keep my promise to our Lady Cosette.” Belle looked confused at that but nodded. 

“Go,” he ordered. Belle nodded and she and Marius galloped away. As they left the clearing, Montparnasse reentered, a smaller man with a bag of gold on his hip in tow. 

One of his guards approached him. “Sir,” she said, “your brother… he just left?”

Montparnasse sighed and drew out his small dagger. Combeferre grabbed his medical kit and finally made his way over to his friend, who were standing swords drawn. Others in Marius’ guard were following suit. “I thought he might, though I had rather hoped you might have been more competent to keep him here for a few moments longer. But it’s no matter, this is not a day for his blood.” The woman cocked her head to the side right as Montparnasse drove a dagger through her throat. 

He pulled it out and let her fall to the ground, blood pooling and splattering the ground around her. The rest of Montparnasse’s guards flew backwards and Marius’ guards advanced. Montparnasse motioned to the man behind him. “Kill them all, except for the blond.” 

A white spark flickered across the man’s fingers. Wizard, Combeferre thought. It was all he had time for before he yanked his Enjolras and Courfeyrac to the ground. A flash flew across the air, screams following in its wake. His vision went white for a moment. When the world came back to him, he was assaulted by the scent of burnt wood, burnt grass, and burnt humans. Combeferre didn’t want to look at the world around them. 

He slowly stood up, Enjolras and Courfeyrac pushing themselves up behind him. “All of them but the most important,” Montparnasse grumbled. He motioned to the man again. A blue spark crossed the man’s fingers and he pointed it at Enjolras. Combeferre didn’t even think, he just stepped in front of his still unsteady friend. 

Everything went quiet. Montparnasse was saying something to the wizard, he looked angry. Enjolras was at his left side and Courfeyrac was at his right. They were saying something, Enjolras looked heartbroken and furious and Courfeyrac was crying, but he couldn’t hear them. They were holding on to him, but he couldn’t feel them. 

He couldn't feel anything anymore. Nothing except from a steady hum that seemed to vibrate him from within. He could see Montparnasse had stabbed the wizard and was screaming something that looked like Enjolras’ name. Enjolras was holding his hand and Courfeyrac had grabbed him by the hand, they were both talking to him, but they weren't louder than the hum. 

The hum was pulling him down. It felt like he was being ripped down into his naval. He felt this. God it was terrible, how did he make it stop? He looked up at his friends’ screaming faces one last time to ask for help. Everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> I am starting my Junior year of college tomorrow, so updates for this fic will probably only be updated once a week max. and around midterms and finals it will probably be put on hold so I can like graduate.


End file.
